Come Back to Me, Stevie
by TaliaScriptor2040
Summary: SPOILERS! Bucky watched Steve get onto the platform, Thor's magic hammer beside him as Bruce started up the van. He knew his Stevie wasn't coming back. It was better this way. Really, it was. Do you want angst? Do you want a different ending than Endgame gave you? I thought so! Come on in for a fix-it story with plenty of sadness and a happy ending. Constructive criticism welcome!
1. Ch1: After the Funeral

Come Back to me, Stevie.  
An Endgame fix it fic.

Bucky wasn't Bucky anymore. He knew that. He understood. Steve was still Steve. Maybe he wasn't as optimistic and energetic as he had been once upon a time, but it was still the Steve that everybody knew and loved. The good man. He thought these words bitterly as he ran a hand through the hair he'd elected to keep long. Sam and Steve sat on the bed together laughing quietly to themselves about something. Since Thanos had crumbled before the collective might of Tony Stark, Steve hadn't let go of them. Bucky had only convinced him to let go so he could take a shower. If he walked back into the bedroom, he could probably find Steve with his shoulder leaned against Sam, their hands brushing against each other. He could only imagine what Steve had gone through these past five years. He had finally gotten something resembling a life, only for everything to go to shit.

Their laughter started up again, and Bucky found himself staring into the bathroom mirror as water dripped from his hair and ran in rivets down the scarred skin of his back. A life. He knew Steve needed one. Deserved to have one. More so than Bucky ever had. Even when Steve had been little and Bucky had been...well...more like himself, Steve had always been fighting for what was right. If anyone deserved to settle down, deserved some fragment of happiness, it was Steve Rogers. Bucky knew who it would be with, too. Peggy. It had always been Peggy. That woman had swept Steve right off his feet. Her picture was still in his compass. She had been on his mind, her name on the tip of his tongue since he and Bucky had reunited. Bucky was no longer Bucky, but Peggy would always be Peggy. She had been tantalizingly close for so long. Then she died. But if they had learned anything over the course of this Thanos thing, it was that reality was... relative. At least when you had the stones.

"Buck!" Bucky jumped at Sam's voice as it rang through the thin walls of the motel room. "How long does it take to dry off, man? Get in here!" Bucky watched his reflection as he forced a smile on his face. Steve wouldn't see past it, but maybe he wouldn't say anything in front of Sam.

His prediction coming true, Steve's head rested on Sam's shoulder, arms wrapped around his friend, afraid to let go. He looked up at Bucky's entrance, the smile slipping when he took in the fake smile Bucky was trying so hard to make seem real. "Hey, man. What's going on?"

Bucky shrugged. "Tired. Hella tired. It may have been five years for you, but we fought Thanos twice in one day."

"Yeah, you asshole," Sam grinned down at Steve, elbowing him until he smiled back. "Who's Captain America now, huh?"

Steve laughed, pushing back at Sam. "Okay, Okay! You win! Now you go take a shower. You smell like dust."

"Gee. Wonder why that is." Sam rolled his eyes but moved to extract himself from Steve's grasp. Steve stretched out against the king sized bed, taking up quite a bit of it. There was also a pullout bed, but Bucky highly doubted that anyone would be using it. Whether they could joke about it or not, Bucky knew all three of them were still traumatized by what had happened. Steve more than either of them. Modern times really hadn't been kind to them. Another reason Steve deserved Peggy.

"Come here, Buck." Steve lifted his arms, moving his fingers like a child wanting to be held. Bucky complied with a smile, crawling onto the bed and depositing himself into his friend's arms. Steve held him close, pressing his face into his hair. Bucky held on with everything he had, soaking up every second the two of them had left. Bucky knew what was going to happen. He knew what had to happen.

"Hey, Buck," Steve started. His voice sounded...off. Like he was talking on the phone. Like he wasn't really talking to Bucky at all. "I've been thinking." Oh, Christ. Not now. Not now. Dear God, please don't take him away from me yet. "Banner needs someone to time travel again. Put the stones back. Now that Dr. Pym is back, we have more Pym Particles at our disposal. And the van still works." Luis had to replace the battery, taking one from the Stark's garage, but it had otherwise survived the battle.

Bucky sighed. "So let me guess. You volunteered."

Steve grinned. "You know me so well."

"I've lived with you long enough to understand what you would do in most situations." Like what you would do if you had a time machine, for example. "So when do you leave?"

"Tomorrow."

Tomorrow? Bucky tried to control his breathing as his blood turned to ice. He had known that Steve would do this, but he hadn't expected it to be nearly so soon. He wasn't sure what to say, but Steve continued as though nothing had happened. As though he hadn't just thrown a wrench through Bucky's entire existence. Steve has a habit of doing that. Of coming into his life and changing everything. Now he would be doing it for the last time. "And I was wondering if you would come with me."

Bucky stayed silent, his heart beating in his ears. He couldn't. Steve was still Steve, Peggy was still Peggy. If you looked at the Howling Commandoes, Howard Stark, Colonel Philips, or anyone else they had known back then, sure they would be changed, but they were still themselves. They hadn't been ripped apart or scraped out. They were still the people they'd been since they were born. Not him, though.

While on the run and especially in Wakanda, he'd done his best to look up his sisters. Becca has gotten married, had three children and seven grandchildren, and was now living in her youngest son's house. He took care of her and she was happy. Sofia had become a writer just like she'd always wanted. She'd been married and divorced and had a child. Her daughter now had a daughter and, though Sofie herself had died years ago, her family was still doing just fine. They were happy. Elena was still alive, though her husband wasn't. She lived in England of all places, still living on her own, though as far as he could tell she could manage it. He kids and grandkids visited. She was fine. She was happy. They had learned to live without him just liked he had always hoped they would. The last thing they needed was for their brother to come back, but... different now. Bucky wasn't Bucky anymore.

"I know what you really want, Steve."

There was a pause. "Oh. Bucky, I just-"

"I can't Steve." Please don't do this, Steve. Please don't go. Don't leave me, Stevie, please. "I can't do that to the...the girls. As much as I want to see them again, as much as I wish I could see them one more time, I can't. Not like this." He presses his forehead against Steve's chest, knowing in his heart that it would be the last time. His last chance. Oh, God. He felt sick. Steve was gone. He was gone. This was it. This was the end of the line. Tears began slipping down his cheeks, his chest heaving as he sobbed silently into his best friend. His little brother. The only person who had believed in him. The only person who had thought he'd been worth saving. Other had come around, of course. He and Sam had gotten close in their time since the German airport battle. But Steve had been the only constant. And now he was gone.

"Oh, Buck." Steve wrapped his arms around him, enveloping him in a hug that seemed to take his breath away. It opened the goddamn flood gates as his jerky sobs cut through the otherwise quiet motel room. He couldn't hear the sound of water running in the shower anymore and could only think that Sam was giving them time. Bucky thanked the heavens once again for that man. "I'm sorry," Steve continued. "I shouldn't have brought it up."

"No!" Bucky's voice was thick from crying. He tried to swallow it down as best he could. "No, I'm glad you did. It's... it's good to know that you wanted me to come with you, I guess. It...I'm glad you wanted me to come. Thank you."

Steve's hug became tighter. A goodbye hug, Bucky thought with a grimace. This was their goodbye. No. God, oh God, please no. Bucky knew that he didn't deserve Steve. Hell, he had never deserved Steve but now he really didn't. Shuri had told him to stop thinking like that, but wasn't this proof? Steve has his chance to start over. To go back. He would get exactly what he deserved, and so would Bucky. Steve would get a life, a family, a home. Bucky would get...a life without that. Without his best friend. Without Nat. Without being able to reconcile with Tony, or tell him how truly, truly sorry he was. Would Sam still want to be with him after Steve left? He thought so, but he wouldn't blame the man if the answer was no. He was used to being on his own. If his life went to shit again, he could live with that. Maybe Shuri would want to see him now and again. Or T'Challa, though he would be busy for quite a while. He could live with that. At least they would be friendly faces. He finally managed to open his eyes, staring into Steve's and trying to memorize exactly how they looked. If he had talent like Steve's he would have drawn or painted them, but he didn't. The most he could do was memorize and pray that this time, THIS TIME, he wouldn't ever forget. "Good luck."

"You too, Buck. Hold down the fort for me, Okay?" Don't let Bruce send me to... I don't know, Ancient Rome or something."

Bucky laughed at that. Actually laughed. Stevie had always been good at getting him to do that. "I don't know, Stevie. You'd make one hell of a gladiator."

"Or a legionary. At least then I'd be able to get around a little more."

"You know what you should do?" Both men looked up at Sam's voice. He was leaning against the bathroom doorframe, watching the two of them fondly, his arms crossed at his chest. "If you do go back to Ancient Rome? Write 'Anthony Stark saves the world.' That way, you called it first. Write it on the Coliseum or something, so it won't be lost to history. Plus, it'll screw with historians, which was always a dream of mine to do if I had a time machine."

"Screw with historians," Steve asked with an incredulous chuckle.

"Sure. A few watch batteries here, a pair of crocs there, and before you know It historians are telling everyone that crocs were once worshipped by an ancient race of people that used batteries as currency."

The three men laughed, Sam moving onto the bed to join them. As the other two drifted off, Bucky fought sleep as best he could. This may be the last night he felt safe like this. Loved. Wanted. Living on the run, he hadn't remembered what he was missing. Now, laying sandwiched between his two best friends after everything that happened, going on the run, Wakanda, the war, the snap the WAR, the SNAP, Tony Stark's funeral, and Steve's decision, he knew that this was exactly what he wanted. He'd missed this for so long, it knows what it was he was even missing, but knowing it was important. Now he had it, and he was going to lose it. Again.

And that was _fine_, he thought as he tried to keep his sobs from waking his friends. This is what's good for _Steve_. Don't be selfish. Don't hold him back. Think about Steve. Shuri's voice floated through his head telling him that he needed to start thinking of himself as well. He pushed it back down. No. This was Steve's decision. This is what Stevie wanted. His Stevie. Bucky would have to live with it.


	2. Ch2: At the Lake's Edge

There wasn't a grave. Just the lake. It was outside the hustle and bustle of the city. Less like his life before his daughter had been born and more like the time he'd had with her. Quiet. Peaceful. Bucky sat at the edge of the lake and stared into the water, what memories he had of the Starks floating around in his head. The sound of footsteps came faintly from behind him, too quick and light to be an adult's. If he'd never become the Winter Soldier, he doubted he could have picked them up at all. He only turned away from the still water when the person sat down beside him. He looked down, turning slightly to face the newcomer. The little girl didn't look at him, only stared ahead at the water like he'd been doing previously. He remembered seeing her at the funeral but didn't ask about her. He only knew that she was Tony Stark's daughter and that she'd been born after the snap. When she didn't speak up right away, he turned back to the water, staring at it with her.

"I think Daddy would have liked this," She finally said, not turning her eyes away from the gentle ripples created by the wind on the surface. "It was nice. I don't think he would have liked the colors, though. He never liked too much black."

Bucky nodded, not sure exactly what to say. "It's what you wear to a funeral, though."

"He wouldn't have cared. He wouldn't have liked all the suits, either. He might have liked what you wore, though. It looked comfier than what the others were wearing."

Bucky gave her a small smile that wasn't really sincere, still watching the lake. "I didn't have time to get a suit. It was all done at the last minute. I... I didn't think he'd want me at his funeral."

This finally made the little girl look up. "Why?"

Bucky gave an awkward chuckle at her confused face. It was kind of cute on the little kid. "He- We- didn't get along."

"Why?"

"I did something bad."

"What did you do?"

"Something really bad. It hurt him... and others. I just... I don't think he would have wanted me there." He wasn't about to introduce the concept of murder to a little girl who'd just lost her father. He also didn't want to explain that her father had probably wanted to attend his funeral, not the other way around. He wasn't that big of a monster. The little girl only shook her head, still confused.

"One time, the lake froze up. I had ice skates cause he used to take me to Rockefeller Center to go skating. He showed me how to glide on one foot and stuff. Mommy was terrible and we went alone. I was getting good. I read books about girls that skated on lakes, and I wanted to try it. Daddy told me not to, but I did anyway, and I fell through." She took a deep breath, her eyes wide as she stared far away. She wasn't looking at the water now, but alone in a memory. "He was... crying. I've seen my Daddy cry before, but not like this. He was holding me so tight it hurt. He took me inside and it was like he couldn't stop talking. Or crying. He asked me what the hell I thought I was doing and asked why I wouldn't listen to him and finally just asked that I never do that to him again. Mommy had to calm him down. It was kind of scary, actually, but he asked me to forgive him and said it was because he couldn't lose me." The little girl looked back up, staring at Bucky with tears in her eyes. "He forgave me. He forgave a lot of people for a lot of things. He said he couldn't afford to hold grudges anymore. He would have forgiven you too, I think."

Bucky felt his own eyes growing hot as he laughed. He tried to blink back the tears, but they crept past his eyes and ran down his cheeks. "I wish I could have known for sure; you know? I wish I could have asked him to forgive me, told him how sorry I really was, tell him that I know how much I hurt him and that I wish I could have fought harder." He sniffed, wiping at his eyes and nose, not looking at the child beside him. She was a Stark, too. He'd taken away her chance to know her Grandparents. He was a monster still, in a sense. Still hurting people even if they didn't know it.

"What you did was really bad?"

"Y-Yeah."

"Well, I think my Daddy would have forgiven you. But even if he didn't, I do."

Bucky looked at the little girl, his light blue eyes meeting hers, which were such a dark brown that they were almost black. Just like her Father's had been. "I forgive you," she repeated.

"You don't even know what I did."

She shrugged. "Something really bad. Whatever it is, I forgive you and I'm really glad you came to the funeral." She took his hand as he broke down. He'd been the Winter Soldier for seventy years. He was finally, FINALLY free of the trigger words, though according to Shuri he would never be truly free from the trauma. He had killed dozens of people. For many, he would never be able to ask for forgiveness. This little girl had given it to him with no hesitation. She didn't even care what it was he had done. She forgave him.

"Thank you." The words were choked and he was still crying, but the little girls smiled at him sadly.

"It's okay. Everyone's crying right now." A few tears slipped down her own face. They sat there together, hand in hand until Sam came to tell him Steve was ready to go. Bucky nodded, squeezing her hand. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a pen. He didn't actually have any paper, so he used the little girl's hand instead, scribbling his number into her palm.

"You ever need help, you call that number okay?" The little girl nodded and gave him a sad smile. Sure, she forgave him, but Bucky figured it wouldn't hurt to still try to make things up to Tony. Don't worry, Stark. The Winter Soldier is the White Wolf now, and he'll make sure that nobody messes with your girl. I swear.

They walked away from the lake where they could see the trees begin to thicken. Just before the trees became too close together to fit, equipment had been set up with several high voltage generators. The ugly brown van with the absolutely amazing horn was parked off to the side. Whatever the hell Doctor Banner had turned into was working over a control panel, monitoring readings and making sure everything was ready for Steve's departure. Steve himself was pacing, Thor's magic hammer in his hand. Bucky felt somewhat better about not going with Steve after realizing that he intended to take the hammer. The power to summon lightning was a better protector than anything he could do. Besides, his little brother hadn't needed much protecting in a long time. Nowadays, he just needed someone to reign in his harebrained schemes. Peggy could do that just fine.

Oh, God. This was really happening. He fought not to panic as Steve smiled, watching Bucky and Sam approach. Stevie was really leaving. He was really going away and there was nothing Bucky could do. A long time ago he had promised Steve he was with him till the end of the line. At the time, he hadn't realized how far off the end of the line was, but now that it was here and Stevie was leaving him, he wanted to stop it. Oh God, please stop it. Doctor Banner was speaking, and then Sam, Bucky not really registering either of them. Finally, Steve looked at him.

"Don't do anything stupid until I get back."

Until he gets back. What if he never came back? What if he dies before this? He'd be old, anyway. It wouldn't be Steve. Not this Steve, at least. Not the Steve that held him in bed last night. It wouldn't be his Steve. It would be Peggy's.

"How can I? You're taking all the stupid with you."

Steve reached forward, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug that left him feeling numb inside. He didn't feel... anything really. Not anymore. He'd cried his last tears with Morgan Stark at the lakeside. There was nothing inside him but a dull ache of longing. He wanted to feel something. Even if it was pain, even if it was too much grief to deal with, he wanted to feel it. He wished he could.

Steve stepped up onto the platform, clutching the metallic case in one hand and Mjolnir in the other. His blue eyes fell onto Sam, and then Bucky, and lastly gave a sharp nod to Bruce as the nano-tech helmet fell into place, obscuring his face to the point that Bucky couldn't make out its details from this distance. Banner was counting down. It was suddenly hard to breath. He closed his eyes and turned away, not wanting his last image of Steve, his Steve, to be him shrinking away into nothing. Instead, he went through the memories he had of the two of them together. Opening the door to Steve on his first day in the tenement building as the tiny blonde boy held an apple cake out to him. Going over for playdates on weekends and when his mother and father were out late. The Dodgers games. Hardball in the park. Lazy Sunday reading days. Holding him back from fights. Backing him up when he managed to get into them anyway. Sarah's funeral. Until the end of the line.

Behind him, he heard the machine start up. A quick noise and then silence. No. No. No. Banner was counting down again. Five. This couldn't be happening. Four. Steve was gone. Three. He wouldn't be there when he turned around. Two. What would Sam say? One. What would he do? The machine started up again.


End file.
